Thorstar: My Death
by ChristenedInBlood
Summary: A Prequel to 'On the Origin of Species'. A Kol and Thorstar/Darwin story. Takes place in 978. Contains viking life and history. Now completed.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I haven't given up on 'On the Origin of Species'. I'm just taking a break to write this short story. It will probably be in three or four chapters.

Thorstar: My Death.

(November 978, in Ribe.)

Thorstar watched his mother, Hanna, practice with her sword, feeling slightly envious. She was a large woman, not slender and delicate like the earl's daughters or emaciated like the female thralls, but well-muscled and sturdy almost like a man. Still, she was graceful and fierce, there was no denying that.

It was at the end of autumn and it was cold. They kept the fire in the middle of the house burning all day and all night, and the thralls spent most of the short days gathering firewood in the forrest. Sometimes, even the earl's family had to help.

They had to be prepared for the Midwinter feast that always lasted at least twelve days. The large house made of wood and shaped like a ship, but only with three rooms; a stable for domestic animals, a smithy and the room where the earl, his family and the thralls all lived. A low bench followed along the sides of the house, where all thirtysix of them slept at night. Except in the cold winter nights, where they preferred to huddle up around the fire.

Thorstar had been taking care of the fire all day, feeding it with wood. He was grateful for the warmth, but also bored out of his mind. Hanna was too busy with her weapon practice to notice her son.

_Block high, block low, lunge. Spin around, block, lunge._

He realized with a sudden uneasy feeling that his mother, elegant as she may be, was slower than she used to be.

And wasn't she already starting to look tired?

There were grey streaks in her golden hair and her face was lined. She had to be older than forty by now. If she was lucky, she had maybe ten years left.

Vikings lived hard and died young.

"I wish you would teach me how to use a sword, "Thorstar remarked, knowing he'd said that same sentence every day since he was five, when the other boys his age had started their warrior training.

"Maybe next year, "his mother said, deliberately not making a promise. "But with your vision, I'd hope you'd never end up in a duel."

He had known his training would be different from he was very young. The other boys of the town had been sent away to learn their skills, while he had stayed in the earl's house, his mother watching over his training like a hawk. He had learned plant and herb lore, but not to hunt. He had learned how to make tools in the smithy, but not weapons. He had learned how to build and repair ships, but not to navigate them. She had taught him how to read and write rhunes herself, as she was the only one in the household, who possessed that skill. He had found most of his simple education uninteresting.

He had been eager to prove himself, when he had become an adult at the age of ten, but he hadn't learned how to wield a sword and the men didn't bring him along on their travels. The other boys returned with stories from Norway and England, some even from Iceland or Greenland, while he had stayed at home, harvesting and milking goats.

Soon enough, his desire for adventure had died a painful death, killed off as his mind became more and more disillusioned. Now, he was nearly sixteen years old and had never been farther away from home than the harbour on the west coast of Jutland, where his friends took off on their adventures.

"And maybe in the spring, you and Vigdis can finally get married, "his mother continued.

He immediately perked up. Vigdis was the earl's second daughter and a year older than he. And even though the earl had given his permission for them to be wed, Hanna, who had never been married herself, had been against the union. And he had been horrified, when his mother had offered to buy him a thrall to use as a bed-slave.

His mother was without family in this part of the land, but she was wealthy, being her father's only heir, which made Thorstar a good match for the earl's daughter; His children would be out of a respected family, and Vigdis would be well provided for. The mundr, which was the bridal-price, was high; the price of five cows. But that was to be expected.

Hanna put her sword back in the scabbard, and crouched down beside him. "Why don't you go outside for awhile? I will watch the fire for you."

(Break)

Thorstar walked through the snowy forrest, following animal paths and half-heartedly gathering fire wood as he went. He gasped for breath in the cold air, his lungs never having been strong.

After a while, he came to a clearing and halted, squinting in the clear sun light. Two blurry shapes were standing under a large oak; one a person standing on the snow blanket, the other looked like a man on a horse.

They were talking, but quieted as he entered the clearing. He put down the wood, and approached them cautiously. He were a only a few metres away, when he recognised the man standing on the ground.

Kol Mikaelson.

Kol was beyond strange. First of all, he was unbelievably tall, even taller than the earl. But he didn't stoop, like the earl did. He always held his head high, looking down on the people around him like they were vermin. Second, Thorstar had never seen him eat and he never worked, showing up whenever he liked, being immediately treated like a member of the family. He slept in the house most of the day and only came out in the dark, beating the other young men in swordsplay and drinking with the earl and his brothers.

But the strangest thing, the one that made Thorstar shiver in his furs, was that whenever he showed, people died for no apparent reason. They simply became pale and weaker and weaker, until they finally died days later.

"Kol. Hei, "he said in acknowledgement. They reached out and grabbed each others forearms in the usual greeting.

Then he turned to the horse. Two people were seated on it; a young man holding the reins and a woman leaning heavily against his back, her hair covering her face.

The man on the horse looked vaguely familiar, but Thorstar could not place him and from this distance his face looked slightly blurred. Kol noticed his staring and smiled. "This is Swein, son of Harald Bluetooth and king of the Danes, just returned from England. And his sister, Thyra."

"Vestu heil ok sæl." Thorstar nodded, not feeling in the least impressed. He knew that Svein like his father had been baptized and he did not trust christians; they brought with them concepts like sin and blasphemy, which had never had a place in his own learnings.

"I have defeated my father in battle, "Swein explained, obviously not happy with Thorstar's formal, but impassive greeting, "I have driven him into exile and seized the throne."

"I am sure this news will please your wife, "Thorstar said, not quite able to keep the disdain out of his voice. He had never had any respect for men, who went against their own kin. Family was important, but to kings it was a double edged sword that protected you with one side and slew you with the other.

Swein's wife, Gunhilda of Poland, had been staying at the earl's house ever since her husband had sailed to England almost a year ago. Six months ago, she had given birth to a son and named him Harald after her husband's father, whom she had always held in high esteem.

No, she would be anything but pleased.

And Swein knew this, sending Thorstar a tight smile.

Kol looked back and forth between them, obviously amused. He had always seemed to revel in animus situations; The more strained, the more hostile, the wider his smile. And if it ended in a fight, he was always more than ready to jump in, fighting for one side in the morning and the other in the afternoon.

"What are you doing in the woods, if you've just returned from England? Shouldn't you be at the harbour?" Thorstar asked suspiciously.

The young king and Kol exchanged glances.

"Some things are not for everyone to hear, "the king answered cryptically.

"But ... "he began, but was interrupted.

Thyra gave a deep sigh and slipped from the horse's back and landed in a heap on the snow. Swein frowned but made no move to unmount. Kol simply looked at her curiously.

Thorstar sighed and knelt down beside her. He loosened her heavy cloak, as her breathing sounded troubled. His fingers felt something underneath her collar bone and he gently pulled back the collar of her dress.

There they were; the blisters.

He looked up at the king in alarm. "Smallpox."

AN: Just so you know, I have absolutely nothing against Christianity, but it would be very foreign to Thorstar.

Anyways, most historians agree that Swein Forkbeard (Svend Tveskæg) became king of Denmark in 986, and others believe it was in 978. But who really knows?

'Hei' = hi (Old Norse, informal greeting.)

'Vestu heil ok sæl' is an Old Norse way of greeting a person of high status, it basically means 'good health and soul.'


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

They returned to the town in a slow, solemn procession. The king was was walking, holding the reins of his horse, his sister on its back barely able to remain in the saddle.

"We were in Kaupang in Norway before we came here, "Swein said, "Half the town was either infected with smallpox or dead from it. I didn't think any of us had been close enough to catch it."

'How typical, 'Thorstar thought bitterly, 'The new king arrives and the first thing he brings his people is death.'

They halted infront of the earl's house, keeping a safe distance. Vigdis and her sister were standing by the door with the king's wife, who held her small son in her arms. At the sight of her husband, she eagerly stepped forward, but he raised a hand to halt her.

"Don't come any closer, Gunhilda, "he said, "Thyra is ill from smallpox."

Her eyes widened and she stepped back, while the sisters went to fetch their father. They returned with the earl, who squinted in the bright sunlight after the semidarkness of the house.

"What is it I hear? "he asked in his usual gruff tone, "You have brought illness to my town?"

"My sister, "the king said.

"You cannot enter my house, "the earl said firmly, "you must be isolated. You will stay at the common house."

"I will look after her, "the king said, "I've already had smallpox."

He pulled back the collar of his red kirtle*, showing small, round scars on his shoulder.

"And I will stay with my king, "Kol said, sounding surprisingly cheerful.

The earl nodded. "And you, Thorstar?"

Thorstar flinched. He hadn't really given much thought to his own situation. He had merely felt sorry for the young woman, who had caught this horrible disease that only one in three survived.

"I ... " He paused. "I've touched her. I loosened her cloak."

"Did you touch the blisters?"

"Yes, "he nodded.

"Then you must go to the common house with the others, "the earl concluded sadly. Over the years he had come to think of Thorstar and his mother as kin. This was as difficult for him as if he had had to send away one of his daughters.

Vigdis gasped.

"Please, father, no!" She sent him a pleading look.

"That is my decision, "the earl put a comforting hand on his daughter's shoulder, "I cannot risk an epidemic."

_So this was it._

Thorstar knew he had an ailing health. If he caught the disease, he would die.

"Have my wife and son sent to Heidabýr**, "Swein said. "She can stay with my cousin."

(Break)

The common house was made of stone rather than wood and grass grew on the roof, but the interior was exactly like that of the earl's house. Kol put Thyra on the bench, wrapping her cloak tightly around her.

The inside of the house was as cold as the outside, but a thrall soon left fire wood for them, dropping it by the doorway and hurrying back home. Another thrall brought them bread and cheese. And old blankets and furs. No need wasting new furs, as they would all have to be burned afterwards.

Thorstar stayed as far away from the woman as possible, even though he doubted that it would do much to change his fate. And that also meant staying away from the fire, and he was unbelievably cold, his muscles tightening and his body shaking.

'Oh, wonderful, 'he thought ruefully. 'Now I'll die of pneumonia instead.'

He started coughing just thinking about it.

Swein and Kol had left their sheilds and swords by the door. Normally, no one brought swords into the common house, but they would have to be here for days. The constant snow would ruin the expensive weaponry.

The king tended to his sister in silence, trying to get her to drink from a flask, but she was barely conscious and most of the water ran down her chin. Kol was sitting on the bench across from them, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

Thorstar took a bite of bread, grimacing. It was more than a week old and rather stale and to make it even worse, he could tell that his mother had made the flour for this bread. She hated working the millstones and never grinded the grains long enough.

After a few more bites, he lost his appetite and put the bread aside, leaning back against the wall like Kol and trying to picture Vigdis' green eyes, straw-coloured hair and blue dress with the green silk band at the hem. She always wore the ornate silver clasp on her cloak that he had bought for her on a market day in the summer right after her father had offered her to him in marriage. The earl had seen the looks the young couple had sent each other while working side by side in the field and sitting by the evening fire.

"Thorstar!"

He looked up and took in the rather large figure standing the doorway. It was a woman, wearing a brown dress that was slitted high in the sides to allow movement. "Mother! You really shouldn't be here..."

She snorted. "Please! I went through this when I was young."

She put her sword with the other and sat down on the bench beside him. "I'll get you out of here. We'll travel to another town ..."

"No, "he shook his head. "I will not put anyone else in danger."

"Then we will hide out in the forrest."

"No, "he insisted stubbornly. "I will stay here. Even if it kills me. It's the only way to keep everyone else safe."

"Now is not the time to be noble, "Hanna hissed.

"If not now, then when is?" He met and held her gaze for a long time.

Finally, she was the one to look away. "You are just like your father."

"Is that a good thing?" He asked, trying not to sound too curious. His mother had never told him much about his father and most of what she _had _told him sounded like horror stories.

"No, "his mother answered petulantly, "I never cared much for him."

"Well, you must have liked him at least once." Thorstar remarked, feeling annoyed."

"No, not at all, "she claimed. "He was just so incredibly handsome."

"And I'm guessing he beat you in swordsplay, "he said drily.

She made a sound that was neither here nor there.

(Break)

Kol was bored and whenever Kol was bored, disaster usually followed. Night had arrived, sleep following in her wake.

Swein, Hanna and Thorstar were asleep on the benches, while Thyra's eyes were wide open and unseeing, as she tossed and turned, moaning.

He considered compelling her to calm down, but he doubted he'd be able to make any contact with her. Nevermind. With the others asleep he could at least take a sip from her. Who cared? She was as good as dead, anyway.

He moved silently over to her, reaching under the blankets and grabbing her arm. He pulled her sleeve up almost to her shoulder. His teeth lengthened and he bit gently into her upper arm, making as small wounds as possible.

Her blood tasted vile, like poison or sewage, but it was better than nothing. In all honesty, he would rather have had a taste of Hanna's healthy blood, but he had long ago learned that she was a light sleeper and impossible to compel.

Maybe because she _knew._

The way she looked at him, the way she always put herself between him and her son. Yes, she _knew, _what he was.

Thyra stopped moving after a while, her eyes closing and she drifted into a peaceful sleep, her features relaxing.

"What are you doing?"

He let go of her arm and wiped his mouth carefully with the back of his hand, before turning his head.

Thorstar was in a semi-upright on the bench, blinking slowly.

Kol smiled. "Just checking on Thyra."

He knew Thorstar's vision was terrible. There was no way he could have seen exactly what had happened.

Kol stood up and stretched lazily, before walking over and taking a seat beside the boy. Thorstar sat up, moving a bit away from him.

"Are you cold?" Kol asked, not really caring.

"Always, "Thorstar grimaced. "I hate winter. I always get ill and I can barely breathe."

Kol regarded him for a minute. He was heavily built like Hanna, but unlike her he was also short, pale and sickly. If it hadn't been for his mother, he would've been left out for the wolves by the elders, as soon as he had been born. Every time Kol returned to the town, he always expected to find Thorstar's grave, but somehow the boy kept hanging on to life.

Maybe by some miracle, he would survive this as well.

"You think this is harsh, you should try Greenland's winter, "Kol commented drily.

"You've been to Greenland?" The boy looked at him with some interest.

"Oh, yes. We made a halt there on our way to Iceland three years ago. Nothing but snow as far as the eye can see. No trees at all, just ice and great white bears. And there's so incredibly quiet. The only sound is your own breath."

"Wonderful, "Thorstar had an almost dreamy look in his eyes. "I would like to see it for myself one day."

"And I'm sure you will." Kol took a flask that was attached to his belt and handed it to the boy. "Here. This should warm you up a little."

He took a sip, then grimaced. "That is _not_ ale."

Kol smiled at him. "Really?"

"I've been drinking ale every single day my intire life. _That _is simply disgusting!"

"When we were in the new world, my brothers and I travelled south for awhile. We picked this up from the natives. It is made by a plant called agave."

"You've been to the new world?" Thorstar handed the flask back to him. "My mother lived there, when she was young."

"I know, "Kol nodded. "I travelled back here with her and her father."

"That was before I was born." He sent him a thoughtful look. "Exactly how old are you?"

Kol mentally kicked himself. He had gone his own way after they had arrived at the Denmark's coast and did not return until five years ago. He had been showing up once in awhile since then. And even that was long enough that some people were getting suspicious.

"Have you mother ever told you about what happened over there? "Kol asked. "Why she left?"

Thorstar visibly shivered. "A little. That men turned to wolves under the moon and an intire family was killed, then returned from the dead the day after. They _ate_ people and burned in the sun."

Kol nodded slowly. "I was out of that family. We are not like everybody else."

"Exactly, how are you different?"

"I'll tell you some other time." Kol took a sip from the flask, before reattaching it to his belt. "You should get some more sleep."

"I probably should." Thorstar looked tired. And a bit cautious, but not frightened. He lay down, wrapping himself in furs and blankets, and was soon sound asleep.

Back to boredom, then.

He considered slipping out and finding a woman to keep him intertained for a couple of hours, but then loud voices came from right outside the common house. Swein and Hanna jumped to their feet, ready for battle and instinctively reaching for their weapons, that wasn't there.

A man entered, dragging another man, an old man, who looked half dead, his head head hanging.

Kol recognised them as some of the king's men, who had returned with them from England.

"What has happened?" Swein demanded.

"Alf is ill. It's smallpox, "the man explained.

"Put him here." The king grabbed some blankets, while the man placed Alf on the bech, then covered him with them. "What about you?"

"I've already had it."

"You must bathe and burn your clothes, before you go back into town."

"I will, but it's no use, " the man shook his head sadly. "There are fifty of us that travelled with your sister from Kaupang and we have been all over this town."

_Oh, did disaster come easily this time!_

The king was biting the inside of his cheek, the air of dignity, that usually surrounded him, gone for a moment and he suddenly looked his age; 18 years old.

"Well well, we better make some arrangements, "Kol said, his voice vacuous, "I'm guessing that from now on, they'll just keep coming."

AN: The aztecs made beverages of the agave plant. It was what was later developed into tequila.

*Kirtle: A knee length shirt worn by viking men.

**Heidabýr: Hedeby or in German Haithabu. An old viking town situated in the north of Germany, which was part of Denmark until 1864.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: This story may end up being a bit longer than first expected. Probably five or six chapters.

Chapter 3.

_'All that lives must die, _

_Passing through nature to eternity.'_

/Shakespeare, 'Hamlet.'

The rest of the night passed with no sleep. By the time the sun rose, ten more men had been carried to the common house and when darkness returned in the afternoon, three had passed. The bodies were wrapped in blankets and taken to the fields outside of the town and burned.

Two more fires had been lit in the house, but it was still cold. Not that it mattered much to the patients, most of whom were having fever nightmares and hallucinations. They were tossing and turning, mumbling incoherently and occasionally screaming.

Thorstar had given up on keeping his distance. The chaos around him drew him in and he found himself coaxing the sick to drink water and keeping their furs and blankets on. Even the king tended to his men and sister, while Hanna was taking a catnap. Kol was cutting protective rhunes out of wood to place under the patients bedding. It was a difficult job. The wrong combination or rhunes could kill the man rather than heal him.

Every few minutes, Thorstar pulled back the collar of his kirtle to check for a rash or blisters. Nothing so far indicated that he had caught the pox, but he suffered from no illusions; it was damn near unavoidable in this invironment.

By midnight, one more man had died, while the remaining seven were still fighting for their lives. Thyra was sleeping peacefully, her fever broken and the crisis over. Swein thanked his God, while Thorstar for once was grateful that the king was christian; had he been asatru, he would have sacrificed a thrall.

As morning came once again, Thorstar was ready to keel over with fatigue. He was sitting by a young man, listening to him talk about his wife in his feverish condition, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, seeing his mother's worried face.

"You look tired, "she observed. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, "he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Just exhausted."

She sat down beside him. "Get some sleep. I'll take over here."

He was about to protest, but she cut him off. "You are no good to us only half awake. You need to be alert."

"Fine." He got up, walking to the bench in the opposite side of the room, laying down and wrapping himself in furs. In less than a minute, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

(Break)

Kol was getting restless. Watching people die around him was losing its appeal and his supply of blood was tainted, doing nothing to curb his thirst. He needed healthy blood. He would not drink from his king, out of loyalty rather than respect, as respect was something he held for very few people. And Hanna was watching Thorstar like a hawk, but the boy was sickly, anyway, and his blood very little nourishing.

No, he had to get out.

Not one to ever sacrifice his own needs for the well-fare of others, he took his sword, tying it around his waist.

"Are you going out?" Hanna was sending him a measuring look.

"Yes, "he smiled at her, but she didn't respond. "I'll be back soon."

She nodded, doing absolutly nothing to stop him. "Keep your distance, the illness may be in your clothes."

_Ah, not in your body. _

"I will." He stepped out into the daylight, which was made even sharper by the blanket of snow. He followed the human trail through the town, until he reached the outskirts of the woods, then he found an animal path, recently trodden by feet in leather shoes.

Thralls. How convenient.

He followed the footprints through the pine forrest and into the older beech wood. The trees were widely spaced, allowing snow and sunlight to reach the ground. Two thralls, a male and a female, were standing under the leafless treetops, the woman tying a bundle of firewood to the man's back. She finished just as Kol came up to them.

He put a hand on the man's shoulder, catching his eyes. "You will go home alone. You have not seen me here."

"I have not seen you, "the man repeated drowsily, before turning away and walking back toward town. Kol reached out and grabbed the woman's arm, as she made to follow her companion. She looked up at him in alarm.

She was rather young, maybe twenty, and probably quite pretty, but it was hard to see through the layer of dirt. Free men and women kept their clothes and appereance neat, but no one cared much for thralls.

Kol stroked her unkempt hair.

"You will not scream, "he said, offering her no other compulsion.

Her mouth fell open as he pulled her close, but she made no sound. He nuzzled her neck, feeling her body relax a bit. Female thralls were used to this sort of treatment from free men. He smiled against her skin; she would not be prepared for what was about to happen.

He found the place on her neck, where he could feel her heartbeat against he lips, slow and steady. He licked the skin, breathing in her earthy scent and feeling his fangs elongating. She shivered against him.

Then he bit into her neck and bled her.

She made a small, terrified sound, immediately starting to fight against his strong hold.

It was futile, of course, and he took great pleasure in how easily he held her in check. Compelling the victim to be still made the kill unsatisfactory; it was their struggles that made it so intoxicating.

Her heart sped up, pumping blood rapidly to the wound and emptying her body even faster. She tasted coppery and a bit like spring flowers.

Her struggles became increasingly desperate and he tightened his grip on her, feeling the bones in her arm and a couple of ribs snap.

She moaned in pain, still unable to scream.

Finally, her heart started to slow down and her struggles died. As soon as her heartbeat stopped, he let go of her, letting her lifeless body fall to the ground. He felt sated and slightly drunk.

He took a couple of coins from a pouch in his belt and placed them on the corpse. More than the thrall was really worth.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, turning to go back to the town.

"You should not kill. It is unnecessary."

He spun around at the sound of the voice. A very familiar older man was standing a few feet away, eyeing the body with pity.

"It serves you well, "Kol stated coldly. "To see what you've made of your own family."

"Every man makes his own decisions, "Mikael said calmly.

"What do you want?"

"Did it occur to you that I might be here to kill you?"

Kol snorted. "You have only one white oak stake. We both know that you are not going to waste it on me."

"True, "Mikael crouched down, pulling the hood of the young woman's cloak over her face, resting his hand on her head for a second.

Kol rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here? "he asked impatiently.

"I followed your brothers to England, "Mikael explained. "I lost track of them, but found your trail instead. No hard to find, as you leave death and destruction in your wake."

"We fought Harald Bluetooth in England, "Kol defended himself. "Death was bound to happen."

"You wouldn't happen to know, where your brothers are now? "Mikael asked, ignoring his statement.

"I have no idea."

_And If I did, I would not tell you._

"Now, if you would excuse me, I have things to do." He turned away and started on his way back.

"It was good to see you, Kol. You look well."

He gave no response, but started walking faster in stead, the coppery taste now bitter in his mouth.

(Break)

Thorstar woke to the sound of a child crying. He sat up, blinking in the semi-dark. Darkness had returned to the outside world, meaning it had to be at least late in the afternoon.

He look around the room, seeing at least two female thralls, who hadn't been there, when he fell asleep, kneeling beside small forms laying on the benches and floor.

He climbed out of his warm furs, finding the king sitting by one of the fires in the midst of the chaos, and went over to him, sitting down beside him. "What is going on?"

"The illness has spread, "Swein answered gloomily. "They've brought in victims all day, mostly children and elderly people. It seems to single out the youngest and the oldest."

Thorstar took another look around, not wanting to get close enough to recognise any faces.

The king cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but the earl's Vigdis is here as well."

"Oh no, "Thorstar felt goosebump forming all over his body. "How is she faring?"

"Not good, "he admitted. "But she is strong. She may survive."

"I have to find her." Thorstar stood up abruptly, making his way through the many people on the floor. Vigdis was the earl's daughter; she would be laying on the bench.

He found her close to the fire in the other end of the room. She was burning up with fever, but seemed aware of her surroundings and him. She had blisters on her face and what he could see of her neck. He hair was pasted to her cheeks with sweat.

She smiled weakly at him, as he took her hand and kissed her palm.

"To think, you mother finally gave her permission and we didn't even get to celebrate before our dreams were crushed."

"Don't say that, "he said, fighting to hold back tears, making his eyes burn. "You'll get through this."

"And if I don't?"

He smoothed back her hair with a shaking hand. "Then I'll die with you."

Her green eyes filled with tears. "Don't say that."

He shook his head. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

She reached out for him, weakly. "Will you hold my hand, when I die?"

He didn't answer, merely gripped her hand feeling grief twisting in his chest and stomach.

(Break)

Thorstar woke with a start. He hadn't planned on falling asleep again, but he had felt strangely tired even after several hours of sleep. Now he felt horribly hot and his head ached. His surroundings were even more blurry then usually.

He stretched, instantly regretting it; every muscle in his body hurt.

He reached for Vigdis, who were laying on the bench beside him, taking her hand. It was shaking a bit. Her mouth was half open and her breathing sounded troubled, her face twisted with pain.

"How are you?" His mother sat down on the floor next to him, looking worried.

"I feel ... I don't know, "he looked down at Vigdis' sweat-covered face again. "What is going on?"

"Fourteen children have died, "Hanna said sadly. "And five older men and a woman."

"What time is it?"

"Almost morning."

"I think Vigdis is dying now. "he said, sounding almost matter-of-factly. But he felt too lightheaded to conjure up much emotion.

"Yes, "Hanna felt for the young woman's pulse. "You should say goodbye now."

He leaned down, breathing in Vigdis' familiar scent of roses and lavender and kissing her on the forehead. "You can let go now, "he mumbled against her skin. "I'll be right behind you."

He straightened up.

Vigdis let out a long breath, her face relaxing into a peaceful expression, the pain gone.

He watched her for a minute, then put her hands on her chest.

"Did you see that? "he whispered. "Who would've thought death could be so ... easy?"

He tried to stand, but keeled over, Hanna catching him before he hit the floor.

"Mother, please; let me go, "he muttered, then lost consciousness.

AN: The incubation period of smallpox is usually about 12 days. I've sped up the process.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Hanna was holding Thorstar's head, while he was drinking water from her flask. He was at least partially alert. His dark eyes regarded her, seeing her as she really was and not as some monster created my his fever twisted mind.

"Probably a good thing you never told my father about me, "He suddenly said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I would have been nothing but a burden to him."

She eased his head back onto the bench. "No. He would've loved you. Just as much as I do."

He said nothing more. His eyes were scanning her, searching for the truth in her face, but she gave nothing away.

She wasn't crying. She didn't cry. Not ever.

She had been fighting for her son's life since the day he was born, refusing to let him die. He had been smaller than a piglet and they had alternately immersed him in warm and cold water to make him gasp for breath.

She had somehow known this was her only chance, that she would never have another child. She'd had short affairs with several men, but had never wanted to get married and her father hadn't forced her to, when he had been alive.

She had formed a strong bond to her son, much stronger than anyone found wise. You did not grow attached to your young ones, especially not the weak ones, until they'd survived their first five years

The room was cold, even with three fires and the many bodies spread out on the floor and benches, and she pulled the blankets up to right under Thorstar's chin. His eyes were closed now and he seemed to be sleeping, peacefully for once.

She frowned, suddenly worried and reached out, feeling his neck for a pulse. It was there, but it was faint.

Determination took hold of her; she hadn't let him die when he was an infant, and she wasn't about to let him die now.

She stood up, searching the room for a certain blonde man. She found him sitting on the oposite bench close to the door, still cutting rhunes. He looked up, as she approached, a wry smile spreading over his face.

She sat down beside him. "Kol."

He nodded, turning his attention back to his task. "Hanna."

"I need your help." She looked around the room, nervously.

"With what?" His voice was infuriatingly calm in the midst of all the death surrounding them.

"I want you to save my son."

He glanced at her. "And why do you assume I would be able to do anything for him?"

She did not answer right away, but considered her words carefully.

"I know you are different, "she finally said. "You have powers."

He shrugged. "Even if that were true, what makes you think I would help him? He is nothing to me."

She swallowed with difficulty, her eyes starting to burn unpleasantly. There were things, she did not want to tell him, but she saw no other way. Only the truth could save her son now.

"He is your kin. He was fathered by a member of your family."

Finally, Kol looked up, slightly interested. "Who?"

She didn't answer, merely twisted the fabric of her dress in her hand. She felt uncharacteristically self-concious.

"It was Mikael, wasn't it?"

Still, she said nothing.

His eyes scrutinised her, the knife and rhune in his hand's forgotten. "The only thing that makes my father's off spring bearable is being mixed with my mother's bloodline."

She shook her head. "It's not Mikael."

"Hanna ..."

"It's Elijah."

Kol stared at her for a minute, then shook his head. "I find that hard to believe."

"Oh, look at him!" She was starting to return to her normal self. "He's the spitting image of his father."

Kol sighed. He hadn't really noticed. Elijah had been twelve when he was born. He had only a very fuzzy recollection of Elijah in his midteens. To him, Elijah had always been a strong, full-grown man and Thorstar was so young and frail.

"My son was conceived the night Mikael killed you all, "she told him. "Elijah had been searching for Tatia all day and night. He was half-drunk on wine and finally settled for me, thinking that she was with Klaus. I am not going to claim that we felt any real affection for each other, because we didn't."

Memories of Elijah ran through his mind: Elijah telling him and Rebekah stories of Asgard and the Gods. Elijah pulling him out of the lake as he had almost drowned. Elijah putting himself between him and Klaus, when they were ready to tear each other apart.

The expression on his face, when Henrik died.

"Alright, "Kol put the knife and rhune to the side, "take me to him."

She led him to the bench in the other side of the room, close to the middle fire. Thorstar's eyes were open, terrified, and his breathing laboured. He was even more pale than usual, but only had a few blisters on his face. He was obviously on the brink of death.

Kol regarded him, curiously. Hanna was right; there was a clear resemblance, he had just never made the connection before; the dark eyes, the brown, almost black, hair.

"Can you help him?" Hanna asked hopefully, stroking her son's sweaty hair.

He thought back to the kill he had made in the woods yesterday.

"Blood is life, "he said, thoughtfully, thinking back to the blood laced wine his father had made him drink.

"What?"

He ignored her and lifted Thorstar's head with one hand. He bit into his wrist and pressed it against the boy's mouth.

"What are you doing?!" He heard Hanna's alarmed voice, but still ignored her.

At first, Thorstar choked on the blood, most of it running down his chin, but soon he started to swallow it.

The wound soon healed and Kol bit into his wrist one more time to make sure the boy had at least half a pint. Then he lay him back down.

"Will your blood heal him?" Hanna asked, wiping the blood of Thorstar's face with a rag.

Kol shrugged. "Only time will tell."

(Break)

Thorstar felt like he was floating, and he was; in and out of conciousness. With reality came his mother's voice, cold or sometimes heat, and pain; in his lungs and his head. He struggled to breathe, sometimes gasping in panic. And still, the fever nightmares and hallucinations were worse. The faces that hovered above him, became ravens; beady eyes, black glossy feathers and sharp beaks. Their voices were distorted, sounding hoarse and mocking.

Maybe weeks had passed, maybe only hours, he had lost all sense of time.

Every now and then, a comforting shadow fell over him and offered him a thick liqued. It tasted dark and potent like aged wine, making his heart beat faster and his breathing a bit easier.

For a while at least.

But in spite of his semi-unconcious state, he could tell the exact second it all ended.

He had been slumbering and woke with a sudden gasp. His eyes fell on his mother, sitting by his side, and for the first time in his life, he saw her clearly. Her graying blonde hair and sky blue eyes, the lines on her face.

He tried to speak, but couldn't.

"Kol!" She moved back and another took her place.

A young man that looked familar, somehow. And he felt it; the connection between himself and this man, as if his blood was singing to him.

_You belong to me and I belong to you._

And then it happened; The pounding in his chest stopped, the pain lessened and then disappeared as every muscle in his body relaxed. The world blurred, everything went black and then ...

Nothing.

(Break)

Kol ran his fingers down Thorstar's face, closing his unseeing eyes. He suddenly felt a hundred years old.

He looked up at Hanna, who looked back at him uncomprehendingly. "It is over now."

She shook her head in denial, and he realised that she did not _want _to understand. "No."

He sighed, standing up. "You should make the arrangement."

She did not throw herself on her dead child's body, sobbing uncontrollably like the other women did. She held her head high, her eyes dry and staring straight ahead.

He patted her shoulder, which was as much of a consolation as he had ever given anyone.

"Do yourself a favour, Hanna. Let him go."

"Never, "she whispered, her eyes shining in the firelight. "Never."

They were the only two people left in the common house. Thorstar was the last to die. Fifteen children and seven elderly people had died, while he fought for his life. Kol suspected that his blood had been the only thing keeping Thorstar alive for so long, three days.

His death felt bitter; Kol had been so determined to save him, hoping that he had been turned into more than a monster; someone, who could heal, not only kill.

He shook himself in annoyance.

"I'm not Finn, "he mumbled.

He went to the door, finding a thrall sitting on a footstool right outside. He looked up at Kol, as appeared beside him.

"Have a funeral pyre build, "Kol ordered solemnly. "This will be the last."

The thrall nodded, immediately jumping to his feet and running toward the earl's house.

It was morning now and the sun was rising over the trees in the horizon, colouring the sky in hues of orange and red. A new layer of snow had fallen over the course of the night.

He felt the hunger gnawing at him. He hadn't fed in a couple of days, whatching over Thorstar with his mother.

The first good deed he'd done in decades had ended in failure. He should remember that; that it wasn't worth it.

Well, the thrall's would be in the forrest, finding and cutting wood for the fire. No one would be looking out for them. It should be easy to find one, wandering on her own.

He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and headed to the woods.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

He'd been floating through darkness for what felt like an eternity. Or maybe just a second; time did not matter anymore. A black sea stretched out below him and a starless sky above.

And then he saw it; the light.

At first it was a tiny glimmer in the horizon, like a glittering diamond, but as he approached it grew and grew, until it became a blinding tower, swallowing him whole.

It was a gate, an opening to a better world. A place where there was no pain, grief or broken dreams. A place where no one ever died.

A figure was standing in the middle of the doorway, silhouetted in black against the light.

As he got closer, he was able to make out her slender body in the blue dress, her sparkling eyes.

It was Vigdis, unmistakably, but somehow it was not. Her face was glowing, more beautiful than any earthly creature could ever be, and her expression was one of quiet peace and joy.

She was smiling, reaching out to him with both hands.

He smiled back at her, feeling her love wash over him.

_I told you I would come._

It was just a thought, but her smile widened and he knew she had heard him. A little closer and their hands were almost touching ...

But then everything went horribly wrong.

He saw her eyes widen, as a cold wind started blowing around them. For a second they were frozen, staring at each other and then the wind started pulling him backwards through the darkness; away from Vigdis and her promise of eternal peace.

Once again, he was alone in the dark.

(Break)

Hanna remained kneeling by her son's lifeless body for hours, staring blindly off into space. A million thoughts were running through her mind too fast for her to hold on to any of them for long.

Most of them had to do with death; Thorstar's and her own.

She could throw herself on her sword or have the local witch brew her a poison. She could burn with him on his funeral pyre ... Yes, that seemed suitable.

She reached out, running a hand over his shoulder length dark hair. It was dry, not sticking to his face anymore. Somehow, it seemed more soft and shiny than it ever had before. She ran a finger down his pale cheek. The blisters were gone, his face completely smooth.

His skin felt cool under her fingers, but his lips were still rosy in colour. They hadn't turned blue, yet.

They should have, though.

'My mind is playing a trick on me, 'she thought. 'I haven't slept for days."

And just then, his eyes sprang open wide and he gasped, his body convulsing violently.

"Thorstar!" She grabbed him by the shoulders, feeling more suprised than startled.

He stared at her, his eyes still wide. "Mother? What happened?"

"You died, "she was shaking her head, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "And now, you're alive again. It's a miracle."

He was breathing heavily, obviously not understanding what she was saying. The enormity of it.

She regarded him with concern. "How are you feeling?"

He frowned. "Strange. Hungry. Edgy."

She rummaged through her bag with shaking hands, finding a piece of bread and holding it out to him.

He considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't want it."

"You're not hungry anymore?"

"Yes, I am, "he was talking slowly, as if surprised by his own words. "But not for that ... It is strange."

She let out a strangled sob, feeling her tears finally spill over and run down her face. She threw the bread aside and flung her arms around him.

She felt him stiffen against her, which was to be expected. She hadn't embraced him, since he was a small child.

"Thank Odin, "she said, half laughing and half crying. "I thought I had lost you."

He finally relaxed against her, burying his face against her neck. She felt his cool breath on her skin. His arms wrapped around her, surprisingly strong, at first holding her, but soon holding her still, as he suddenly held his breath. She could feel his heart beating wildly against her chest.

And then he bit her, and her blood started flowing.

(Break)

Kol let the body fall to the ground. He had feeded on this young thrall so viciously that her head had broken off, rolling through the snow and leaving trail of blood.

He sighed contendedly, feeling full and blood-drunk.

The violence washed him clean of his disappointment, somehow.

Now, he felt his fangs retracting and his face return to normal. He smirked, wiping his mouth.

_Nothing like death to lift his spirits. _

This thrall had been the fourth. Three more lay dead, their bodies scattered throughout the forrest.

Well, killing a thrall was no crime, as long as you compensated the owner. If you did so, no one cared.

He threw some coins on the body, as he always did. Then he walked back toward the town, whistling.

But as he neared the common house, he broke off in the middle of a tune, slowing his pace.

The smell of human blood was hanging in the air, strong and potent. If he hadn't been so thoroughly sated, he would have been sprouting fangs.

He damn near did, anyway.

He crept closer, drawing his sword.

(Break)

"Thorstar, what are you doing?!"

He was pushed away desperately, sitting back against the wall. He was breathing deeply, feeling a trickly of blood running down his chin.

Bloodied fingers were pressed against a neck and he stared, unable to focus on anything else.

The smell was intoxicating, all consuming and chased away any sanity he may have had, since he had woken.

His teeth hurt, but he barely noticed. When it stopped, two sharp points bit into his lower lip.

He lunged again, this time on the other side of the neck, biting hard down on it. There may have been a scream, but he didn't hear it through the sound of pounding hearts.

His mouth filled with blood and he bit even deeper, almost gnawing. With every swallow of blood, he felt himself grow stronger, and his victim weaker. He had no problem holding her body still, and eventually her frantic fighting died out.

Her heartbeat was slowing, while his own was beating faster. The heartbeats pounded in his ears and through his body, over and over again, until ...

They both stopped, abruptly.

And everything went quiet.

He let go off the body, staring down at it, without understanding what had just happened. Now the taste of blood was thick and unpleasant in his mouth.

As his senses returned, he recognised his mother's face. Her unseeing, blue eyes staring at him without a trace of emotion.

He gaped at her.

Had he just killed his mother? Fed on her blood, until her heart stopped beating?

With realization came panic, and he started hyperventilating, deserately shaking his mother's corpse.

_"Wake up! I didn't mean to hurt you. Please, mother!"_

A shadow fell over him and he looked up, seeing the tall figure of Kol regarding him with wariness and curiosity, his sword in hand. "Help me, Kol."

Kol said nothing, but kneeled down on the other side of Hanna's body, putting his sword aside. Then reached out and gently pried Thorstar's mouth open. He stared at the sharp fangs for a minute before letting go.

"What has happened to me?" Thorstar's voice was almost a whine.

"My blood must've changed you, "Kol concluded. "You're like me now."

"And what is that?"

Kol ripped a piece of fabric from Hanna's dress, soaked it in water from his flask, and cleaned the blood from Thorstar's face.

"There are not yet a word for what we are, "he told him. "Some call us demons, other call us Gods. But I think that whatever we are, it's something completely different."

"There are others?" The boy was slowly getting control over himself. He was still trembling, but his breathing was calm.

"My family, "he said. "Our family."

Thorstar frowned at him. "Our?"

"You are my brother's son."

He could practically see the understanding dawn on Thorstar's face. Him remembering the stories his mother had told him about his father's family. Then remembering what Kol had told him days ago:

_"I was out of that family. We are not like everybody else."_

"I ... I need to get out." Thorstar jumped to his feet, but Kol shook his head.

"You cannot go out in the daylight."

The boy looked towards the door.

"I will burn, "he concluded.

He sat down on the bench, closing his eyes and looking exhausted. "I want my mother to be buried whole like her father. With him in his barrow."

Kol nodded.

"Of course." He stood, putting his hand on Thorstar's shoulder for a second. "Don't worry; everything will be alright. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day. You'll see."

AN: Next chapter will probably be the last. It will be up late Sunday or early Monday.

Warning: Spoilers for 'Stefan's Diaries' ahead.

There seem to be some confusion, as to whether or not vampires actually have a heartbeat. In 'The Ripper' vol. 4 of Stefan's Diaries, Violet touches Stefan's chest, stating that 'there is no heartbeat.' But in the beginning of vol 5 'The Asylum,' Stefan says that his and Damon's hearts are beating, but apparently not pumping blood. Well, I've decided that my vampires do not have a heartbeat, except for ... well, you know.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: This is the last chapter. It's quite short, sorry.

Chapter 6.

Kol and Thorstar put Hanna's body to rest next to her father's under a starry winter sky. Thorstar had dressed her in her favourite green dress and wrapped her in furs. The earl had suggested giving her a thrall with her on her journey to the afterlife, but Thorstar had refused. Instead, he'd freed her four thralls, as he had no use for them anymore. He had given them plenty of silver with them on their way.

They placed the jars containing gold coins, her combs and jewels next to her and finally, her sword and chain mail.

Thorstar sighed and kneeled beside his mother's form:

"What ails thee, Hanna? Thy hue is pale.  
Great wounds, I ween, do weary thee;  
thy helmet is hewn, thy hauberk eke:  
at an end is now, thy life!"*

He felt Kol's hand on his shoulder. "Let's close the grave and leave the dead to their slumber. We will see them again at Ragnarok."

He nodded, standing to leave, but then hesitated. "Just a moment."

He went to his grandfather's remains, unwrapping his sword from its skins. "Let's go now."

They closed the grave, moving the boulders back into place.

Thorstar took a deep breath of the cool night air. "It still amazes me, "he said, shaking his head. "I breathe freely, I don't feel the cold, everything is so clear to me ... I never thought life could be this way."

Kol sat down on a boulder. "I guess, you finally found the cure for your ails."

"Yes, but at what price?" Thorstar gestured toward the barrow.

Kol shrugged. "Nothing is ever free."

They settled into silence, both thinking about what had happened and what they had learned that day.

Finally, Thorstar drew his grandfather's sword from it's scabbard, admiring the straight blade. "After all these years, it's still perfect!"

Kol frowned: "Are you sure, Olaf approves of you taking his sword? He has never been seperated from it. Neither in life, nor death."

Thorstar smiled a bit ruefully. "It was supposed to be mine. I was supposed to take it from the grave the day before my wedding as part of the rite of passage. The symbol of death and rebirth. Well, one could argue that's exactly what I've gone through today."

He let his fingers wander down the rhunes on the side of the blade. "Jafnadr**, how quaint."

"That sword has slain many foes, "Kol informed him.

"Yes, but it will never kill again, "he said firmly. "And neither will I."

"Just as well, "Kol's tone was slightly mocking. "From the way you hold it, it's obvious you have no idea how to wield it."

"Well, I don't think I've ever actually held a sword before." He took a few swings, while Kol smiled in amusement.

But as soon as the smile had appeared, it vanished in an angry frown. Thorstar did not noticed. He spun around, lunging as he had seen his mother do ... And then there was the sound of steel hitting steel, jarring him.

He blinked, seeing another sword crossed with his own then looked up to see the face of a man well past his prime. He let the hand with the sword drop, taking a few quick steps back.

"Not a bad move for a beginner, "the man noted. "It must be in your blood."

"That is very likely, "Kol moved up behind him, grabbing his shoulders protectively. "But that is not the path young Thorstar has chosen for himself."

Thorstar did not like the look in the man's eyes. He seemed to be appraising him, as if he were an ox at a market place, his voice disapproving. "I never meant for you and your siblings to pass on the curse."

"Oh, a curse is it now?" Thorstar felt Kol's nails dig into his shoulders uncomfortably. "Don't worry, this boy is kin. I've kept it within the family."

"Alright, "the man nodded gravely. "Just remember how easy it would be for me to end you. You do not have the resiliance of the original 6. Any wood can kill you."

It took a moment before Thorstar realised that the man was talking to him.

"Of ... of course, "he answered, unable to look away from those penetrating eyes.

The man sheathed his sword, nodding once.

Thorstar let out his breath, as the man walked away. After one day of feeling invincible, he felt weak and vulnerable once again.

"Who was that? "he asked, trying to calm his frayed nerves.

"Mikael." He finally felt Kol's grip on his shoulders loosen. "And you would do well to remember that name."

Thorstar shuddered. "I really do not like that man."

"Neither do I, "Kol admitted. "But don't worry, little brother; I will never let anything bad happen to you."

(Break)

(June, 1014 in Scotland)

Elijah and Klaus had made it well for themselves, Kol had to admit. They were staying at Glamis Castle*** with the intelligent and ambitious king Máel Coluim, Malcolm II of Scotland.

Kol sat in Elijah's room, admiring the tapestries on the walls. Normally, such things did not interest him, but these showed scenes of bloody battle, something he could clearly relate to.

"So, what brings you here, Kol?" Elijah asked, handing him a glass of wine.

Kol shrugged. "I helped king Swein conquer England. We finally succeeded last year, then the bastard died four months ago. Now, I'm helping Cnut opholding the reign, while his idiot brother, Harald, rules in Denmark and Norway."

Elijah nodded, showing very little interest in his story, which was why he kept it short. "I've noticed. The Danish rule is relentless. The king is bleeding the country dry."

"Well, "Kol sipped his drink. "I never side with losers."

His older brother frowned. "No, but there is no need for siding with tyrants, either."

Kol sighed. Of course Elijah would say something like that. In all honesty, Kol hadn't really cared, which side he fought for, since Swein had died.

He had lost himself somewhere in the blood and violence, which had been a strange feeling almost like redemption for him. Redemption for repressing his nature for so many years, while teaching Thorstar to make it on his own.

"Where were you before England?" Elijah asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, I spent thirty years in Danmark."

"In Denmark?" Elijah looked surprised for once. "That is rather dull for you, isn't it?"

Kol shrugged again, leaning forward. "I kept myself occupied. Elijah ..."

"Yes?"

Kol paused, while his brother sent him a politely inquiring look.

He could see Thorstar so clearly in Elijah, the same way he had seen Elijah in Thorstar. It wasn't just the physical resemblance, it ran much deeper than that. The two of them would surely like each other and enjoy each other's company immensely ...

He leaned back again. "Nevermind."

AN: *From Hiálmar's Death Song.

**Jafnadr: Justice (Old Norse)

***I don't know it Malcolm II actually lived at Glamis Castle much during his long reign, but it is said that he died there.


End file.
